It All Began With A Delivery
by sweet-and-simple
Summary: Sequel to "It All Began With A Horny Demon".  Bobby gets to enjoy motherhood... or fear it, actually.  His daughter just isn't a little angel.  Crowley/Bobby past mentions of Gabriel/Sam and Castiel/Dean.


Dean has his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, and he's in Bobby's favorite chair. So far, nothing about this looks good.

Sam's leaning up against a nearby wall, arms crossed over his chest, and his expression is greatly distant. That's not something new, so it _might_ be somewhat good.

Dean gives first and sighs, revealing his tired face, and he slouches back into the piece of furniture. "Alright, we get it. No killing Crowley… _yet_."

"Dean." Bobby gives him a very pointed look.

"I'm just saying," he holds up his hands defensively in front of him, "we can't trust that he _just_ wants to be that baby's pops. We don't even know whose side that baby's going to be on, it might be ours it might be his. We might just be fucking _screwed_."

"And what are you suggestin' we do?"

Dean takes a long moment to think about it. When he apparently comes to a conclusion, he stays ominously quiet. He looks first at Bobby, then at Sammy, and then back to the floor, head in hands again.

"We're not doin' _that_."

"I didn't say anything, now did I?"

"Bein' smart for once, 'suppose."

They glare at each other, like they can make the other back down through sheer will alone.

Sam finally gets sick of it. "Okaaay, but, I mean, are you _really _happy with this?"

There the softy goes again. He doesn't really care for what's right or wrong in the world, he just wants to make everyone happy. Which might be something amazing, considering the shit he and Dean had had to go through in life.

Bobby goes quiet. He has an answer, he just doesn't want them to hear it yet.

He's spent the past four months in Crowley's care, getting zapped halfway across the world to places he's only vaguely heard of. Crowley's been cooking for him, keeping him comfortable as the pregnancy gets a little more difficult (and who wouldn't have seen _that_ coming? He's a fuckin' DUDE! There are things in his anatomy that aren't meant to deal with this shit and their physiology are all against this), and even bringing back stories to tell him.

The most aggravating part about it is that Crowley hasn't screwed him blind since that first day he popped back into his life. Which _sucks_ 'cause now Bobby's horny as hell and too big to do shit about it. Honestly, his belly looks like someone inflating a huge beach ball inside of it.

At least, that's how it looks to him. And maybe Dean, 'cause he looks at Bobby's womb and his eyes widen three times over before he looks away, pale.

Sam doesn't seem to care either way how big his belly is. He just keeps staring at it, like it's something to marvel.

If Bobby didn't know any better, he'd say that Sam wants to _touch_ his prego belly.

And then he remembers that Sam and Dean are still waiting for an answer.

"None of your business." Mature. Really, Bobby, mature.

"It kind of _is_ our business, Bobby," Dean growls. "A fucking _demon_ impregnated you and you're the last person we have left in the world."

That sorta gets to him. It's true.

Sam's Gabriel was dead by Lucifer's hand, Castiel had been smote by God for attempting to take over using the souls of purgatory, and Ben and Lisa are… still gone.

Sam has his soul back and all of his memories too, but he's luckily alive and well, not going crazy. Dean, on the other hand… well, he had loved Castiel, anyone could have seen that, even the _blind_ could have seen that.

It was too much loss for him, too soon.

"We don't know what this pregnancy will do to you," Sam translates for Dean in a hushed voice.

"It'll make me crankier than I already am, make me want food even _I_ think is disgustin', and it'll eventually put me in labor," he explains to them with little empathy. As if _they're_ the ones going to pop the kiddies out.

"You tell them, luv."

"SONOFABITCH!" Dean all but falls out of his chair and Sam has his pistol drawn before he's even aware of it.

Crowley is in the doorway, wearing Bobby's "Kiss the Cook" apron. He has a plate in one hand, bacon and eggs its contents, and in the other is a very putrid-looking sort of drink.

"What _is_ that?" Dean stares with disgust at the liquid.

"You don't have to be so _mean_, Dean. _I_ am a demon, remember?"

"Not you!"

Crowley looks down at the glass. "Ah. This is Bobby's juicy drink."

Sam raises an eyebrow and turns back to the fidgeting older hunter. "Juicy drink?"

"Shut up!" Bobby scoffs and looks quickly away. "It's the only damn thing I can drink around here!"

Because, though Crowley was powerful enough to impregnate a man, he isn't powerful enough to make his own baby resistant to alcohol and caffeine. Which just means that Bobby hasn't had a single beer or coffee since Crowley moved in with him.

Which fucking _sucks_.

"Don't worry, boys," Crowley soothes, "it doesn't look as bad as it tastes." He offers a Cheshire grin at the boys' horrified expressions. "Bobby's taste buds are all a _little_ out of control right now, if you don't like it, you're both welcomed to leave."

"Just gimme the damn food." He rubs his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut, like he's in physical pain.

"Of course, luv." As he brushes past Dean, the older Winchester's chair 'unexpectedly' lost a leg. Dean went tumbling with a curse and Crowley began to hum happily, setting down the food before a bed-resting hunter.

His eyes drift warningly to Sam. "Anything you want to add, darling?"

Sam watches Dean get back to his feet and snarl at the King.

It is such a juvenile prank that he isn't sure why he feels so threatened. Hastily, he shakes his head. "I've got nothing to say."

Dean glares at him. _'Traitor'_, his eyes say.

Bobby looks from one of them to the other and then turns on Crowley. "If you're gonna treat my boys wrong, you might as well send them away." He bites down on a piece of bacon. "You pompous idjit…"

"Oh, Bobby, I _love_ when you order me around. It makes me all horny."

All three men choke at the same time. Dean glows green, Sam flushes brightly, and Bobby's face starts to turn blue.

Oh, wait, he's choking.

"Fuck!" Both Sam and Dean charge valiantly forward…

Only to lose to Crowley, who pats Bobby's back lightly and suddenly color returns to the hunter's face. "Ooooh, luv, had I known you were having such thoughts, I would have done something much sooner!" He grins.

In the next moment, Sam and Dean disappear. Wherever they are now is a mystery, one that Bobby hopes he doesn't have to figure out just to save their sorry asses.

"Naughty, naughty thoughts, Bobby. Shall we act them out?" He purrs into the hunter's ear.

If Bobby is flushed cherry red, no one has to know.

~::~

Three months later, Bobby is holding a small bundle in his arms. He just pushed a baby out of his ass.

He's impressed, even by himself.

Crowley is there, too. Actually, he's the one who delivered the fetus. There isn't any way possible that they would be able to go to a hospital, now is there? Unfortunately, he's the _only_ one there. Sam and Dean had come earlier… and then they had disappeared the moment they had stepped foot in Bobby's room. Their last words had been "Not aga-" and then they had been gone before Bobby had had time to stop _yelling_ (not screaming, _never_ screaming) and look at them.

The girl… looks like a girl. That surprises Bobby, he isn't sure why. She has thin, wispy brown locks on her head, eyes puffy and closed, and her lips are puckering for something that Bobby actually hopes he _can't_ give her. At least not from his own body. She looks a lot better than she did a moment ago, that's for sure. Covered in mucus and blood and other unpleasant shit, she'd looked like an alien pushing her way out of his sphincter.

Now, though… now she's just the goddamned prettiest thing Bobby has ever seen. She's so small, she could fit in the center of his palm, he swears. And she has his rounded face, plus his stubborn scowl, and he's feeling proud about that.

If she looks anything like Crowley, he can't find it.

"She has my eyes," the demon hums into his ear, expression warm and fond on the child. "And my love for hellhounds."

"Get the fuck outta my head, Crowley."

"Language, luv. Watch the language." He strokes his finger over the girl's cheek and Bobby's heart melts as his daughter sighs. Ah, shit, he's already wrapped around her little finger… and it's so _little_, so fragile looking, and he might break it if he's even _emotionally_ wrapped around it.

Crowley leans over and, in Bobby's stupor, kisses him soundly. He doesn't even have it in him to grimace like he usually at least tries to do. "What's her name?" the King asks in a husky voice. His eyes are roaming up and down Bobby's body, like the second they put the baby down, he's going to jump him.

Which, maybe, he might. Because in the time Bobby was holding his baby girl, Crowley had already changed the sheets, set up the girl's room, and made a deal with Bobby to heal his body.

That last reason might actually be why Crowley's eyeballing him like a four-star restaurant. Bobby didn't make the deal with his soul, Crowley had wanted something a little more… physical.

He's obviously just waiting to collect.

Bobby thinks about it for a moment. "Ellen," he finally murmurs.

Crowley raises an eyebrow. "Wasn't Ellen the woman you fancied?"

"She was also the best goddamned woman I've met since my wife. And she died takin' your hellhounds down with her."

"They weren't _my_ hellhounds."

"No, but they _were_ hellhounds. Keep that in mind, ya perv." He glares pointedly at the hand resting on his inner thigh.

He's not completely sure why Crowley's so eager to have sex. After what Bobby had just been through, hell, after what had just spewed out of his bum, he'd think the demon would want to back off. Except, _no_, he apparently _doesn't_. 'Cause he's a sick sonofabitch.

"We made a deal."

"I didn't know it had to be _immediately_."

"That was the deal." Crowley looks only too pleased with himself.

"Go fuck yourself."

"Langauge, luv. Language. Besides, why would _I_ want to fuck _myself_… when I could very well fuck you?"

Because he can't think of anything good to say to that… "Language," snaps Bobby.

"That's what I thought."

"Now bring my boys back. This is their niece, they have every right to meet her."

"Aren't you afraid that they'll try to kill her?"

Bobby glares at him with all his might. "No. Those boys of mine, they're good. They won't hurt my baby girl."

He knows they won't. Even if they all live to regret it, they won't lift a finger against her. Not unless Bobby asks them too.

And he never will. He looks down at Ellen and he knows he'd rather die than end her, even if she turns out to start the next freakin' apocalypse.

"Hello, Ellen," Crowley leans over Bobby to coo to their child, an easy grin on his face, "I'm your daddy. This here is your mummy. Treat him well, yes?"

"_Crowley_!"

"You mean to tell me you haven't realized till this very moment that _you're_ the mother?" Crowley raises a brow.

Bobby flushes darkly. "I'm a guy."

"Who conceived and then gave birth to a child. Sounds like a mummy-thing to me."

"Screw you."

"Language, Bobby." But then he leans in and presses his lips to the hunter's ear, tongue flicking out to tease the shell. "And I'd rather screw you."

~::~

Sam and Dean… they love Ellen with all their hearts. That's apparent the moment they step through the door, looking dirty and pissed off, and see her.

Bobby can only vaguely remember the last time they looked so damn _soft_ about someone.

Bobby, sleeping off a two-night fuck marathon and endless hours of caring for his infant child, lets them watch over her.

For about fourteen hours. _Fuck_, he had been so tired…

When he wakes up and stumbles down the stairs after a quick detour to the bathroom, Sam is passed out on the couch, looking colorful for reasons Bobby isn't sure of, snoring quietly, and baby Ellen is held protectively in his arms, as if even unconscious, he will never let anything hurt her.

Just in case, though, Dean must have mounted a ring of pillows around the couch and is sleeping on the nearby recliner. He's covered in some goo Bobby doesn't even want to identify.

Bobby thinks that's pretty cute, except for the fact that his baby isn't in her crib where she'd be safe against falling off altogether. At least she's cleaner than they are. Damn, she must have given them _hell_. At only two days old, too. Thata girl!

He thinks it's cute only until he wanders into the kitchen.

"DEAN! SAM! GET YER ASSES IN HERE, YA SORRY SONS OF BITCHES!"

Apparently, they had gone to war with his pantry. Cupboards are open, the fridge is on its side, the table is missing its legs and turned its belly facing towards the fridge, the floor is littered with various hard foods, and the walls are spattered with edible debris.

Their excuse?

"The, uh, the baby kinda… start _asking_ for you… and, well, we kinda freaked, and then, um, _this_ happened when we wouldn't let her go upstairs…" Dean stops talking.

Bobby's glare could peel paint. Ellen is safely in his arms, not because he doesn't trust his boys, but because he doesn't trust himself not to kill them and if he's holding his baby, that's less a chance that he'll rip them to shreds.

Both Winchesters stare pointedly at the floor, like even they know how ridiculous they sound.

"W-we, um, got her to agree with letting you sleep a little longer… though…" Sam tries and then fails, shuffling a little away from the slowly reddening hunter.

"So you're both tellin' me that my two-day old baby talked to yout and then kicked your asses at a food fight?"

"But we got her to…" Sam tries to interject again.

"_My two-day old baby _–"

"We know how it sounds, Bobby, but it's _true_!" Dean huffs.

Ellen sleeps soundly against Bobby's chest. Not in the least bit bothered by the argument.

Now Bobby knows why Sam looks colorful and what the goo on Dean's shirt is. Food. The egg salad Bobby completely forgot about decorates the older Winchester and it's the ketchup and mustard that's making Sam look so goddamn awfully bright.

"If it's true, then how come you two look like shit but she's clean?"

He actually expects them to say that they cleaned her up after their little war and then were too tired to have their own showers.

Instead, they both blanch and pale, looking down at the baby as if they have just now realized her state of cleanliness.

"If ya tell me to believe you 'cause she's Crowley's daughter, I'm gonna make you both disappear myself," he snaps at them.

They both wisely say nothing.

"Now clean this place up!"

~::~

As it turns out, they weren't lying.

Two weeks later, Ellen is sitting up by herself. Her large brown eyes that actually _are_ Crowley's find his, no wavering, and, for a moment, he's just frozen still staring back at her.

She's in her crib, supposed to be lying down, and he's supposed to be studying up on selkies and determining if they're dangerous because there so happens to be one in town, which makes absolutely no sense 'cause they're apparently partial to oceans and he's not near one.

She blinks, he blinks. Finally, she looks back down at her tiny feet, then edges her eyes along the premises of her crib. "She's going to kill someone," Ellen mumurs, as if she isn't an infant who doesn't even have all her teeth yet (though she does have three of them and that's not so freaky because, apparently, that happens sometimes). She sounds more like she's a teenager, actually.

Bobby chokes on his own saliva.

And, _no_, he doesn't _faint_. He just… closes his eyes for a minute. It's not like talking babies are the most shocking thing he's ever come across, really!

When he _opens his eyes_, Ellen is lying down, snoring quietly, and there isn't even a twitch from her still tiny body.

"I need a drink."

~::~

"What the hell is goin' on with her?" Bobby snaps at Crowley the moment the King of Hell appears in their bedroom. "She's been talkin' to me about my cases, tellin' me when they're dangerous or not! I saw her in the pantry yesterday!" And he hadn't taken her there. No one else had been home either.

And if that isn't freaky enough, he found her in the top cupboards over the sink. Holding the beef-flavored cubes. Sucking on one, too.

"Really?" Crowley looks utterly fascinated. "Oh dear, I thought this might happen…" except the concern his words bring out in Bobby is absent in his tone. Hell, he's grinning.

"What are you talkin' about?"

"You see, luv, there's a soul in that body that's aging much faster than her physical form. Usually, though, when this happens, it takes much longer for the body to catch up with the soul, usually till about the age of one… She's already talking, you say?"

"Like she's in her teens."

"And moving by herself?"

"I was in the same goddamned room and when I look over, she's not even in her crib anymore!"

Crowley claps his hands together. "That's my girl!"

"And you know what?"

"Hm?"

"I think she started a food fight with my boys a week ago."

Crowley swoops down upon the crib and lifts Ellen into his arms, cooing to her, telling her how proud he is. She looks at him, brown eyes huge, and she starts crying.

Bobby can't help but feel smug at the contrite expression on his lover's face. He only feels smugger when Ellen reaches out for him, squirming madly to get away from Crowley.

Gently, he takes over. Over Ellen's head, he smirks.

"Yes, well, she just wants your soul." Crowley sniffs delicately.

"Are you… _jealous_?"

"She started it!"

"You _idjit_! She's just a baby!"

"_You're_ the one who said that she's up and talking and walking! Bloody hell, luv, she started a fight with your boys!"

"You were proud about that a moment ago."

"That was then, this is now! She might be potentially _dangerous_!"

Bobby narrows his eyes threateningly. Ellen is petting the collar of his button-up, sniffling now. "An' what are you suggestin' we do?"

Crowley tenses and looks at him out of the corner of his eyes. "Now, luv, I didn't say anything like that…"

"She cries once and you're thinkin' of gettin' rid of her?"

"_Bobby_, no… No, no, no, luv, never." Crowley edges closer and, within arm's reach of Bobby, pulls the hunter to his chest and kisses him deeply. "She's ours, darling, I'd kill to protect her." Which is the sweetest thing Bobby has ever heard him say… except for, maybe, that time he told Bobby that they didn't have all day when he'd been in that damn wheelchair.

He doesn't bring up the fact that Crowley would kill anyway, either. He just lets Crowley pull him into another kiss and that feels… pretty damn good.

Ellen wriggles between their chests.

What neither demon nor human know is that she's grinning with all the charm of someone who won the Oscar Awards for best actress.

She just loves to bring her parents together.

~::~

When Ellen is five years old, she saves a cat from a tree.

She then promptly turns around and throws it back up into the branches.

When Bobby asks her why, she just shrugs and says that she was wondering if it felt better to be the good guy or the bad one.

She finds out that she doesn't care either way.

~::~

When she's seventeen years old, Bobby's old as dirt. Actually, he's in his late fifties. But that's pretty old for a hunter and his battle scars are slowing him down big time. He's forgetting things, multiple concussions catching up to him all at once, and his hands start getting tremors.

Ellen touches him once and all the pain goes away. He looks in the mirror and he doesn't look a day older than when he gave birth to her.

"I can't live without you yet, mummy," she says later, when Bobby corners her in her room and tells her that when it's his time to go, she has to let him go.

When Bobby's scowl doesn't disappear, she straightens her back, wipes away her bloody tears, and returns his glower full-power.

"If you die now, I'll kill the Winchesters."

Bobby knows that she loves them like the greatest uncles in the world. When they come, she's at their side without a word and she doesn't leave them till they're out of the state again.

He also knows that she doesn't turn back on her promises.

And, well, there's no point crying over spilled milk. He's young(er) again and he might as well go through the years once more. "People are gonna wonder what happened to me, hon," he remarks anyway. "People don't just lose nearly twenty years like that."

She grins in a complete Crowley fashion. "I've got you covered, mummy."

As it turns out, no one remembers his sixtieth birthday. Or even the birthdays before that. Not even Dean and Sam. As far as everyone in the world cares, he's been in his forties for the past seventeen years.

If it so happens that he sees Crowley and her high-five later on, he ignores it.

~::~

"I've decided," Ellen announces at her twenty-first birthday, surrounded by her family consisting of her mummy, the Winchesters, and her daddy, "I'm going to lose my virginity tonight." And then she calmly sips her bud light, like all she did was comment on the weather.

Three loud "Like hell you are!" ring out in perfect synchronization.

Crowley, on the other hand, eyeballs the bar, the tables behind them, and then settles his gaze on a woman in the far back wearing a white cotton sweater and moderate blue jeans. Her hair's pulled up and owlish glasses are pushed over her doe-like eyes. To complete the picture of a woman who is obviously not meant to be in a bar, she's sipping at orange juice. "I suggest her, luv. She looks ripe for the taking."

That night, against Bobby's and the Winchester's wishes, Ellen disappears.

Three days later, when she resurfaces, the same woman from the bar is hanging onto her arm, looking blissed out and exhausted as fuck. Her sweater has been replaced with a leather vest that boosts her breasts and her loose jeans are now tight to her full ass. Her long red curls are loose around her pixie face, framing it.

When she looks up at the Winchesters, there's an awakened hunger in her naked eyes.

If it so happens that the woman, who turns out _was_ a grade-school teacher, quits her job and moves to a whorehouse to perform BDSM on customers, none of them comment on it.

Except Ellen, who regularly goes there every other Saturday.

Crowley couldn't have been prouder.

~::~

Ellen kills her first bad guy at age twenty-three.

He is a ghoul who tried to rob a convenience store with her in it. He had been feeling a woman up behind the cash register, whispering cannibalistic filth into the trembling woman's ear, removing clothes as he went, and he was definitely getting ready to take a chunk out of her.

When he so happens to die and the woman so happens to end up in Ellen's bed, looking like she never wants to leave, Bobby can't help but ask _why_ even though he knows he doesn't want the answer.

"Have you _seen_ her, mummy?" Ellen asks him, brown eyes wide. "She's _gorgeous_. And a virgin. _Was_ a virgin, anyway. Why would I have let scum like that moron ruin her for me?"

The convenience store lady quits her job and takes up prostitution, doing crack on the side.

Bobby's worried now.

What _is_ his daughter?

~::~

It's when she's thirty years old, Bobby still looking no older than the day he gave birth to her, that she finally shows some human compassion.

A little girl is crying on the curb, Bobby and Ellen walking by. She stops, looking at the child, and then disappears from her mummy's side.

When the aged hunter whips around to find where she went, she has the girl in her arms, comforting her gently, and she's petting her hair back from her face.

Bobby's touched and very proud. Maybe that shows with how his lips are so curved in his scruffy face or maybe it's how his eyes dampen just the slightest bit ('cause he's _not blinking_, of course, not 'cause he's _crying_ or anything), but she looks up at him and the humility that makes her expression so goddamned warm nearly melts him.

And then, just like with that goddamned cat, she turns right around and kisses the girl on the lips, whispers something, and returns to Bobby's side, the child wailing in fear behind them.

Bobby spends the next two hours explaining pedophilia to his daughter. Out of all the things she knows, he's hoping that's one she's never heard of before.

Otherwise, he doesn't know what to think of what she just did.

~::~

She's forty-two when she is first hunted by a hunter.

Dean and Sam are in Oregon, too far away to do shit. Bobby's in Texas after a chupacabra. Crowley… well, Crowley's in Hell.

She's all alone when the man comes looking for her, holy water and special bullets on his person…

When Bobby comes home two days later, his house is spick and span and his daughter welcomes him at the door.

"Hi, mummy." She snuggles down into his arms. "I missed you."

He chuckles. She really hates it when he leaves, doesn't she? "Missed you too, hon." He sniffs the air and his belly rumbles as a reminder that he hasn't eaten since the day before. "Somethin' smells good. What is that?" 

"Pecan pie. Want some?"

"Damn straight I do."

He shuts the door behind him and moves to follow her to the kitchen. At the staircase, he pauses. "… Did you just hear somethin'?"

"Hear what, mummy?"

"Somethin' moanin'?"

They both listen for a long moment. They hear nothing.

Ellen shrugs and Bobby huffs slightly, still weary but not enough so to go off in a search. He's actually a bit… reluctant.

As far as he's concerned, it's just another woman strapped down to Ellen's bed, waiting for her to get back.

"You cookin' anythin' else but pie?" He takes a seat at the kitchen table. He can smell meat in the air, he _knows_ he's smelling meat…

"Steak!" She grins proudly. "Fresh too." She takes the cuts out of the stove, pokes them for a moment, and then sets two on Bobby's plate. "I paid an arm and a leg for it, so dig in!"

~::~

Sam's dead again. He got caught by the wrong vampire and now he's gone… For good, this time.

It takes three days for Dean to follow. He's just not strong enough to lose another person, especially Sam, and especially for the umpteenth time.

Bobby stares at nothing in particular, sitting on the edge of his bed.

Ellen doesn't feel anything for the issue at hand. She loved the brothers with all of her cruel heart, but she just doesn't have it in her to mourn for them. Everyone dies someday.

It's as she has this thought that she walks into her mummy's room, soup in hand, and looks up at Bobby that said heart stops.

Everyone dies someday… Someday, that will include her mummy too.

~::~

"No, luv, you can't kill Bobby and then yourself and then come live with me in Hell." Crowley's wearing the "Kiss the Cook" apron, frying some potato slices.

If it so happens that half the house blows up seconds after Crowley gets the 'no' out, Ellen doesn't claim any attachment to it.

~::~

When Ellen is fifty-three, she meets a noteworthy hunter.

This one's a girl. Actually, she's the same girl that Ellen kissed twenty-three years ago.

She recognizes Ellen instantly, though it takes the half-demon a long moment to remember her in turn.

Her name is Noah. And she has greatly improved in kissing since the last time Ellen saw her.

She is also great at multi-tasking. Say, for instance, jabbing her Enochian-inscribed blade up into Ellen's ribs even while she's snogging her senseless.

Ellen's only lucky that the script is talking about _healing_ instead of _killing_ or else that would have been the end of her.

Unluckily, Noah isn't like all the other girls in Ellen's life. She doesn't turn into a nymphomaniac after Ellen's done having her way with her in bed.

Instead, her drive to kill Ellen seems to only increase.

Such as, at Thanksgiving.

Bobby is chewing his turkey slowly, eyes narrowed, and Crowley's leaning his head on his one fist, grinning. Both are watching Ellen.

More pointedly, they're staring at her 'dinner guest'.

Noah is tied to the chair beside Ellen, voice 'magically' gone, and Ellen feeds her bits and pieces from her dish.

"She deserves it, luv," Crowley soothes into Bobby's ear. "She's the one who tried to poison the dessert with holy water."

~::~

Ellen is sixty-two when she decides it's time to let go.

Of Noah, that is. She's just aggravating lately. Doesn't even want to kill Ellen anymore, she thinks they have a _special_ bond. Apparently, it means something that Ellen hasn't wasted her.

When she tries to end her, however, Bobby stops her.

"There's a human way of goin' 'bout this, Ellen!" he snaps, and Ellen knows that this has been a very long time coming. "Just tell her to leave you alone! And if she ends up dead…" He stares at her tellingly.

"No, no, no, don't do that!" 

"I will. I'm in my freakin' _hundreds_ now, hon. You're gonna have to let me go sometime."

"_Never_."

"You don't get to make that decision." And then he walks away.

Ellen tells Noah to leave her the fuck alone.

Now Noah is obsessed with killing her again. Except it has nothing to do with Ellen's heritage.

It has everything to do with her breaking the woman's heart.

~::~

She's seventy when her daddy comes home, annoyed, and snaps his fingers.

Just like that, mummy falls to the ground, dead. His body begins to wilt and decay, skin peels away and muscles deteriorate, and before Ellen has time to scream, he's nothing but dust on the ground.

She tries to kill her daddy, she does. But he doesn't let her get within two feet of him.

When she's done screaming and ranting, she falls to the ground, crying.

She isn't ready to lose her mummy, she just isn't ready…

Crowley rolls his eyes and then sighs. "Well?"

She glares at him. "Well, _what_?"

"Are you coming?"

"… What?"

"We're moving, of course." He grins. "All three of us." He opens his one hand and in the center of his palm is a bright, glowing orb. Its colors shift and part, mix and brighten, darken, deplete.

"Is that –"

"It is."

"And we're going –"

"We are."

She bounces to her feet. "_Finally_!"

He holds out an arm and she attaches herself to it. "Off to Hell we go, luv."

_Author's Note: I don't know… I think I like Ellen._


End file.
